Five Years Later
by fourthage
Summary: A lean year at Budehuc forces Thomas to write a letter. Thomas/Cecile, written for Yuletide 2009.


Budehuc Castle was a well-known trading stop in northern Zexan. It sat overlooking the sea and was rundown in that cheerfully patched-up way that said the place had seen better days and was hoping they'd come back for an extended stay. There was also a ship, long ago crashed into the cliff at the back of the castle. It was the first thing anyone noticed, and so much a local landmark that it was the last thing said locals thought to mention to visitors.

In the courtyard of the castle the guards went about their daily training. The one directing them was not the middle-aged man with calluses on his hands (from a hoe, not a sword), nor the woman who walked bowlegged (the horses she rode were from the farm, not a battlefield). Instead, they both moved to the orders of a sturdy girl of seventeen, armor clad even in the summer heat and using both voice and spear to measure a steady beat. Commander of the Guard since she was twelve (and its only member), Cecile had begun recruiting only recently from nearby villages. Most hopefuls went to Vinay del Zexay, but older residents like Alice and Russell found Cecile more accommodating to the seasonal demands of farming.

Inside the castle, in a room on the second floor, the young master of the castle kept his own routine of double-checking the past week's finances. The windows of the room were open to let in what little breeze arose. Thomas did not notice that his finger moved down the column of figures in time with the voice from the courtyard.

Sebastian, the castle's butler, accountant, and whatever-else-needed-doing-man, waited nervously as Thomas reached the end of the column and compared the number to the other books on his desk. Thomas sighed and closed the ledger. "Only half as much as we had this time last year," he said.

"It's that war with Tinto," Sebastian said. "A third of the northern trade routes closed, and the Grasslanders are staying close to home in case the Knights get in over their heads."

Thomas thought a moment. "Alice is going to Vinay del Zexay next week to visit her brother, right? Could you ask her to come up when she's done training with Cecile?"

Sebastian left, and Thomas took out paper, pen, and ink for a letter he did not want to write. It took him two hours and five drafts, and he put the letter into Alice's hands with specific instructions and little hope. As soon as she was out the door he wanted to call her back and tear it up. He tried for another half hour to occupy himself with other correspondence before giving up and just sat and tried to compose himself before going down to dinner.

He thought he had succeeded until Cecile took one look at him, put twice the usual helping of meat on his plate, and maneuvered him to the corner of the table where he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Thomas waited until the rest of the table had started eating before reaching over to squeeze her hand in thanks, absurdly grateful that he _could_, since she'd finally stopped insisting on wearing her armor at the table "just in case". She didn't turn from the conversation she'd struck up with Juan, but she squeezed back.

The next two weeks somehow managed to be both a blur and consist of days that stretched like one of Mamie's honey pulls. While Thomas didn't think his letter wouldn't be ignored altogether, he was still taken by surprise when Cecile came to his study fifteen days after Alice left and announced "Lucas Lowma, Envoy from the Zexan Council," in a flat tone.

Thomas stood in some confusion as a young man carrying a satchel entered the room behind her. "Please be welcome," he said after Cecile finished the introduction. He added, "And excuse my surprise. I wasn't expecting a reply in person."

"So, I see," Lucas said, taking in the disorganized state of the desk. Behind him, Cecile made a slight jerking motion with her spear. Thomas thanked her hurriedly and sent her out of the room before she lost her temper.

Lucas opened his satchel and took out a sheaf of papers. "The Council is prepared to offer these terms for the next twelve months, in consideration for the hardships imposed by our current disagreement with Tinto." He held the papers out for Thomas to take. When Thomas just stared at him, he dropped the them on the desk unceremoniously. The sound seemed to jolt Thomas back to the present, and he picked the documents up and began glancing through them.

"Your family name is Lowma, you said?" he asked.

"That's right."

"I didn't know Council members used their family members as couriers."

Lucas frowned. "My father," he said, not noticing the way Thomas stiffened at the words, "said the matter required personal attention from our family."

Thomas looked up sharply. When nothing more seemed to be forthcoming, he looked down at the papers again, "I'll review these and have an answer for you tomorrow."

Cecile entered as Lucas left and waited a count of ten after the door shut before saying, "I don't like him."

Thomas said nothing.

"Thomas?"

"Mmm?"

"What's wrong?"

Thomas carefully placed the proposal under a carved griffin bone a gift from the Karaya chief before answering. "He's Councilman Lowma's son."

"So he's . . ."

"My brother. Half-brother," Thomas corrected himself. Not that anyone seeing them would ever think it. Thomas had the rough brown hair and pale skin of his mother, and, now that he knew to look for it, Lucas was their father thirty years younger.

"He doesn't know," Cecile said.

"No."

Cecile tapped her spear against her shoulder, a bad habit she'd picked up from one of the Knights. Thomas thought it was a bit more . . . emphatic than usual. He counted the hits, waiting for her to say whatever was on her mind.

"I really hate your father," she finally said, bringing the spear down on her shoulder hard enough that Thomas winced. "Why can't he just leave you alone and let us have you?" Her voice cracked on the last words and Thomas suddenly realized she looked as distressed as he'd felt the past few days. He knocked his chair over standing up, but before he was halfway around the desk Cecile ran out of the room. By the time he got to the door she was already down the stairs and out of sight.

Confused again, Thomas sighed and went back to his room to study the papers properly. The terms offered by the Council were more reasonable than he'd expected. They must have been harder hit by the drop in trade than they had let be known. He had Sebastian review the documents to see if he'd missed anything, and after some thought took them out to Martha to look at too. Neither saw any hidden catches, so the next morning he signed his agreement and sent both papers and Lucas away. He worried about what Cecile might say as Lucas left, but Russell was at the entrance and had been for some time.

"She's been down by the stables since yesterday morning," he said. "Working on something important."

Something important turned out to be a garrison's worth of straw dummies. Thomas threaded his way through the stacks until he caught sight of Cecile. She was out of her armor with one knee holding a bundle of straw together as she secured the tie in the middle. Her face was red with the exertion and her hair had straw sticking out of it every which way. Thomas sneezed.

Cecile looked up, gave the tie one last tug, and stood. "I'm just about ready," she said.

"Ready?" Thomas repeated.

"I don't know why the Council keeps poking their noses in our business. You're the best thing that's ever happened to the castle!"

Oh, Thomas thought, as Cecile started to pace.

"What right does he have to try to take you away from us again?"

"Cecile."

"You've been been here for years! You're ours!"

Thomas put his hand on her arm as she paced by him again. "_Cecile_"

She stopped and blinked at him.

"No one wants to remove me from Budehuc."

"But your brother -"

"Was carrying new trade arrangements from the Council. We're having a bad year and needed to renegotiate some of our previous arrangements with them."

"Oh," Cecile said. She deflated and looked at the pile of straw dummies. "I still wouldn't have let them take you."

Thomas smiled, "I wouldn't have let myself be taken either."

"No," Cecile said, shifting her weight. "I mean, I really wouldn't have let them. Because, um." She bit her lip the way she did before trying a new attack pattern.

Thomas shifted the hand on her arm up absentmindedly and opened his mouth to ask _because what_, but got no further because she leaned forward and kissed him.

Thomas had no idea if it was, strictly speaking, a good kiss. But it was straightforward and enthusiastic and entirely Cecile, so when she started to pull away he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed back until they were both breathless.

After, he said, "We should have a bonfire."

Cecile turned her head from where it rested on his shoulder. "A bonfire?"

"It's the only thing I can think of that both Zexans and Grasslanders do to celebrate."

He felt her laugh along the entire length of his body. "Well, I know someone who made a bunch of straw dummies that aren't needed anymore. . ."

So they had their bonfire, and meant to let the rest of the castle guess the reason until Thomas forgot it was supposed to be a secret and kissed Cecile in front of the fire and everyone. But she didn't seem that upset, and Thomas thought it might turn out to be a good year after all.


End file.
